Dead men walking.

 

No one talking.

Life is gone.

But it goes on.

2020 poor as a rock.

Unless you own stock.

But soon all will fall.

Farmers will eat.

Bloody streets will compete.

For the scraps beneath their feet.

The world will dress in bodybags.

A few will survive in tattered rags.

No one left to slave for Bankers coin.

But a rusty can of food will buy any kiss tonight.

What is coming can not change.

Keep your seed dry and close at hand.

For if food and bullets will be the only demand.

Visions of the Prophet to this broken land.

12222020 TDK.

DEATH WATCH 2020:

December, 8, 2020 3:00AM

Besides my many other problems today. I stood the Death Watch, tried and true tonight. Our little Black Angel of 20 + years old, crossed from in my arms to the great Catnip Rainbow and now can play again with her family she so long out-lived.

As a USMC Vietnam 1960s Vet and a cat and dog cartaker, almost my whole life. Death knows me well, and comes by to chat, far too often, even for us being very old friends.

Still having watched, a Stone Hearted Warrior, try to relearn to cry in the 70s and beyound. He still gets a twinkle in his eye when he see a tear in mine.

And often whispers in my ear, Druid you have come back, a long long way on the hard road.

You are almost a true Human again.

Almost, TDK.

MUD RED ROADS TO HELL.

 

So who did you kill, so long ago, in the 60s or 70s.

Where there was rain and mud but never snow.

Do their faces come back to you still, so late at night.

Or still wakeup now and and then, with the shakes, sweats,  and suppressed scream. 

Before you realize it was just a Memories Dream.

USMC Vietnam, 1960s

TDK.

Postscript:

Up all night, finally took a ibuprofen, this morning and Dr. Cat sleep on me.

As often comes winter, my mind and soul, if I have one still, return to Vietnam, as it was a deadly time for us. And those oh so young men, I often shareded c rations with the nights before,  so full of hope about going home died before my eyes. Yes they went home, or at least little bits and pieces we scrapped up were supposed to. And the Red mud roads to hell, ate well.

TDK,  Scribe and reluctant Sky Pilot of Summerlands.